


to be or not to be

by GildedButterflyPath



Category: Star Trek
Genre: F/M, Just a different platform, Mild Smut, Moved from FF.net to here, Originally posted under username StardustToRememberYouBy on FF.net, Romance, Secret Relationship, Still my work, Workplace Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:29:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24828352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GildedButterflyPath/pseuds/GildedButterflyPath
Summary: "You told your father that you would honor the Vulcan manner of suppressing emotion, knowing that feelings run more deeply in your species than in humans for many reasons. You had done well until she came along and, now, you don't know what to do with yourself."
Relationships: Spock/Original Female Character
Kudos: 19





	1. Spock

You can recall as vividly as the hologram in front of you the moment when logic failed you. It was all because of _her_ , this person who had made you think twice about yourself and about your chemical make-up. But you're Vulcan - well, _half_ of you is - and Vulcans are not supposed to have feelings like this. Regardless of whether or not your father married a human female, that life has never been you...not until _her_.

Her. She. The woman. The lump of feelings and frizzy ginger hair that made your head spin. She was the first thought that stopped all of your so-called ingenious mental abilities and transformed you into a mass of skin with hot, green blood pulsing your veins every time she looked at you. Did she know that your initial meeting had been haunting you, even revisiting you in your dreams, dreams that had previously been nonexistent? Did she know of her beauty? Furthermore, did she know what she was doing to you?

You swore that you were in control of yourself and that the Vulcan way was the best way. You told your father that you would honor the Vulcan manner of suppressing emotion, knowing that feelings run more deeply in your species than in humans for many reasons. You had done well until _she_ came along and, now, you don't know what to do with yourself.

Whenever you're around her, you feel the constant need to clear your throat as it runs dry, the salivation nearly failing to give you the strength you need to even speak to her. She is just so lovely. Every flick of a finger and each bat of long, thick eyelashes has your insides screaming for physical contact where you previously did not require it. You find yourself imagining what she smells like, what her skin feels like when it's against your own, what her lips feel like...

This is _not_ the Vulcan way. This is your human half trying to take over, and no matter how hard your alien half attempts to repress her, you can't. You can't. In fact, you don't really know if you _want_ to repress her.

You like the way it feels to be near her. You like the way she smiles at you in that half-smirk kind of fashion. You like the way her bushy curls eventually have to be pleated into a braid or fastened into a tight bun at the back of her head, even though the way they cascade over her shoulders and into her face makes your heart sing. Moreover, you like the way you like her.

Occasionally, you make certain that the daily agenda for you both is identical so that she is nowhere but at your side day-in and day-out. A very tiny fraction of you is tempted to schedule an alone-time at the holodeck wherein you can live out a vicarious romance with the woman you're so drawn to, but you can't. You won't. Because you want the real thing.

You give her a gentle smile when you're alone and reprogramming the simulators for the Academy's medical training bay. You are so close to her. You want to reach out and let your fingers graze her hand in the hopes that she will get the idea...

But you don't. You stay your course, intermittently clearing your throat and hoping that she can't hear your heart as it prepares to launch itself from your body. She's quiet now, quieter than you're used to, and inside, your head is begging _Please just speak. Say anything. I am longing to hear the sound of your voice. It does not matter what you say. Speak to me...say my name..._

"Commander Spock," she says out loud, and you can feel your existence surge with energy.

"Yes, Commander?" you manage, feeling the itch to bite back the grin you feel.

"It pains me to say this, but I think you are too close to me."

Your heart wants to die, but not in a bad way. This is the first time you've ever heard her acknowledge the physical proximity, even if she _does_ find you to be too close.

"My apologies, Commander," you say and move on to another wall to check the logistics of the system itself.

She is silent, but you can feel her breathing.

"It's not that," she muttered, her eyes boring holes into the back of your skull as you continue to work.

"Oh?" you say, practically urging for her to say more.

"...it's unprofessional of me. Forget that I said anything."

_I cannot forget, my angel._

"On the contrary," you say, remaining as staunch and upright as you always are in public even though you're a mess of sobs and emotion inside. "If something is bothering you, Commander, I would be remiss if you allowed it to get in the way of your work. If it is an obstacle, I would have you say it aloud so that we may do whatever we can to remedy it." _Now she will think of you as...what is the human word for it...an ass. How unemotional you sounded just now!_

She is tense - her nerves pervade the air, nearly palpable as you make your way back over to her and make eye contact.

"I don't want you to think less of me."

 _I could **never**_.

"Say what you will, I have no doubt that your impression on me will go unchanged."

She hesitates and you hold your breath.

"For the past few years, you and I have worked very closely together." You nod, knowing the heartache that the time-gap has burned into your aura. "It's just...well, I don't think that I can be a partner to you anymore. It isn't right for me to." You want to tell her that she's wrong and that there's nowhere else you would rather have her, but you say nothing, your eyes conveying that you're hanging on her every word. "There's something between us. I don't know what it is, but every time I'm not around you, I can't breathe and, when I am, I feel like myself. I'm...I'm attached to you in some way and working with you is unprofessional given that. I'm sorry. I know that this must be difficult to hear. You were my favorite teacher and mentor and tutor, but I can't jeopardize either of us by continuing to work with you."

You pause, knowing fully-well why she had to say that, and knowing her well enough to sense that saying this pained her. She was very similar to yourself in many emotional aspects, almost as if there was a bit of Vulcan heritage in her own ancestry. Even if she didn't, she was right. The connection between them was obvious and impenetrable. You wanted to tell her everything.

"Commander," you begin, placing your clipboard aside, "I cannot deny that your resignation from my personal staff is a stab to me. Your expertise is something I highly value - have _always_ highly valued - but if you feel the need to resign yourself from my presence, then there is something that you should know."

You pause, feeling your Vulcan half attempt to punch down the human half wanting to spill its beans. Your human half wins.

"You are very special to me and have been since I became your morphology tutor in your premiere semester here. I have watched you grow and become an incredible officer, one that Starfleet is honored to possess. You are my personal favorite protégé, but I request that you keep that between us to avoid favoritism showing itself to my other students. Your attachment, Commander, is nothing short of requited." Her gaze finds yours and a light, a beam of something new, reverberates in your locked expressions. "I, too, feel an attachment between us; so much so, in fact, that I can practically feel the pressure escaping my body as I tell you this. I find you mesmerizing and absolutely breathtaking, and I mean that in a literal sense as you did."

You can tell that she wants to say something - perhaps even touch you - but she doesn't. She is still, and you continue. "There are no more words for this, so I will say that if you wish to leave my employ, I will understand." You take a deep breath and take one step closer to her, your heartbeat pounding away at your ribcage. "However, if you _stay_...know that I...I _want_ you to stay. I do not wish to work if I cannot work beside you in some form. I cannot explain my need to be near you, but if you tell me right now that you wish to leave in spite of what I have said, I will nevermore bother you."

She is hesitant again, but you can sense impulsion parading around her thoughts. Her blue eyes are distant and, yet, so very near. She steps into you, her body mere inches from yours and her face so very, very close now.

Your breath hitches in the back of your throat and you pause, her eyes pleading with her to break that barrier, to invade your personal space so that you won't feel as though you've betrayed half of yourself in the indulgence of emotion.

She pushes herself up on the balls of her feet, the leather-ply of her uniform-issue boots giving a low squeak as she cranes herself up to be near you.

You are breathing through your mouth now, your eyes scanning her facial features - _did she always have freckles_? - and seeing the flecks of hope in her irises. Her fingers slip up and gently graze the lower portion of your cheek and you feel the ecstasy of contact between your flesh and hers come to life.

She is breathing quickly, each of you so near the other now and as she moves in to press her lips to yours, the doors to the turbolift to the back of the room whiz open and she snaps down to flat-foot, retracting her hand, blinking several times and moving swiftly back to work.

You straighten yourself outwardly while your insides weep for what almost occurred. The lines the pair of you have crossed can never be erased, and as medical students begin to question her about the new technological changes and her eyes once more meet yours, the two of you know that a public acknowledgement of your mutual affections cannot exist.

You return to your work, the place on your cheek, the bit of you that has been one with her, undulates with what _did_ happen.


	2. Elyse

You stare at him from across the room, and you know that he's thinking of you, too, when you make eye contact with his thoughtful browns. There is an entire room of officers between the two of you and, even still, it feels like you are the only two in existence. You are overseeing the outcome of the current Kobayashi Maru test being given, your eyes flickering between the security monitors and the face of the man you wish you could be closer to.

The officer next to you is a Fleet Admiral, so, naturally, you want to keep up appearances. In preparation for this test today, you have fastened your long, bushy, ginger-colored curls into a braided bun to appear as professional as possible, and have several pins tucked away into your uniform just in case some of those curls want to break free. You can already feel them beginning to rebel, but there's nothing you can do. At the moment, you are Commander Elyse Walter, a security, tactical, and xenolinguistics expert with the know-how that first-years envy and that seasoned veterans wish they could get back to.

The officer adjacent to you is First Lieutenant George Mackelroy, an officer of command who has had his eyes on you for hours now. If you were a betting woman, you would probably put money down onto the fact that the First Lieutenant was going to ask you to dinner for the fourth time this week.

You've never once said yes, and why would you, with the tall and exceptionally marvelous Vulcan male across the room for whom you have actual feelings?

You want _him_ to ask you. He would be the one you never turn down, and that's just fine with you. Of course, it's also fine with him.

The student taking the test fails as all who undergo the Kobayashi Maru do, but this one is in a tirade as to his failure and consults the officers in the room. When you attempt to join them, the Fleet Admiral turns to you and puts up a hand, explaining that your services are not needed. That you are inexperienced. That he admires your moxie, but that you still have a long way to go and much respect to gain among the upper echelons of officers at Starfleet. With that, the doors to the room swiftly slide shut in your face and leave you wondering what you did to deserve disdain.

You are frustrated and understandably so. It is just you and Spock in the room now and you can't even allow yourself to acknowledge his presence. After what almost occurred three days prior, you're unsure if you _should_ make eye contact with him. You feel almost humiliated from not going through with what you'd wanted to do, but when you feel him approaching you, you remember why.

It is against all protocol to be with him publicly, given that you both are ranking officers in the fleet, and, still, it can't keep the two of you from being close to the other. To touch him would be the end of your careers. To kiss him would be bliss. Either way, each choice would come with pluses ad minuses, losses and gains, but you know that the losses will have to outweigh the gains. Until, that is, he is beside you and your fast-paced heart tells you otherwise.

"They should not have spoken to you as they did," he mumbles, pretending to be eyeing something on the screen in front of him in case you are being watched.

You shake your head when your body allows you to respond and give you your voice back so that you may address him. "They are my commanding officers," you say, almost in a robotic sense as though you had said such a thing a million times before. "They will say and do as they please. By now, I'm used to it, Commander."

"We are alone for the moment. You may call me by the name my mother gave me, if you are willing to, of course."

You smirk, but you attempt to keep it hidden from him. By the short exhale he releases from his nose, you can tell that he saw it, and that fact causes a blush to come up under your cheeks. "They want me to be my best."

"From the sound of it, they want to stifle you and keep you where you are. Perhaps it stems from the fact that you are the youngest female to achieve a Commander's rank in nearly a hundred years. I believe they wish to stifle you because you have shown them up, you have intimidated them beyond belief."

"I'm sure that's not the case."

"You intimidate _me_ ," he says, his voice clear but nearly inaudible.

You feel your breath hitch in your throat and you can feel the shakes come to your hands and to your chin. To hear him admit something so freely was a wonderful thing that you are not about to take for granted.

"Spock," you say under your breath, closing your eyes momentarily as you feel a few curls dislodge themselves from your once solid updo.

"Elyse," he breathes, noting the officers where they are readying to come back into the room. "I must speak with you later in greater detail - "

"My living quarters this evening will do." Having said that, you move over to the Fleet Admiral and face up to him.

He stares at you for a moment, eyeing you suspiciously. "Can I help you, Commander?" he asks and you half-smile at him in a more condescending way than you had originally intended.

"Not at all, Admiral," you say, your eyes locked on his gaze in the most piercing manner possible. With a minor salute, you leave the room, your head held high.

You spend the next several hours pacing your quarters, your thumb pressed to your earlobe as you massage the cartilage there in hopes that you will relax before he arrives. But you don't. Instead, you tense up even more, and that's when you realize that your once-reliable methods of relaxation were no match for the intensity of your feelings for the handsome Vulcan standing just outside your door.

With the sound of the buzzer, your heart literally skips a beat and you readjust your top and smooth your pants over as you make your way to the door and reassure yourself that this is worth it. That the two of you share something worth pursuing.

You press the button to allow him to enter and you hold your breath because seeing him takes your breath away - this way, you could, perhaps, get the jump on what would inevitably happen again. You are correct in getting the headstart.

He is there, looking at you with knowing but professional eyes. When you gesture for him to enter, he does, coyly looking over his shoulder to make certain that no one of importance had followed him. Luckily enough for both of you, no one did.

As soon as he enters and the door whizzes closed behind him, both of you seem to be out of breath. Perhaps it's just nerves, perhaps it's something else. No matter what the reason was, neither of you say anything. You stand there, staring at each other. He is the first to speak.

"I could not speak to you with the officers watching," he blurts, almost embarrassingly quick for him, and you slightly grin at how adorable it is to see a Vulcan's composure crash down. _Damn_ , you think to yourself, _we must really have a hold on each other._

"I know," you respond with an affirmative nod, folding your arms across your chest. _Another defense mechanism_. "I'm glad you wanted to speak to me elsewhere."

Spock's eyes find yours and you quiver inwardly, somehow keeping control on the outside. "To be honest, I was not entirely clear in stating my reasons for this." He steps closer to you and your face shows him that you are not as ready as you once thought. He reaches out, touches your hand with his. Slowly, both hands rise together and his palm is flat against yours. The contact of flesh between you is both intoxicating and electrifying and you can't breathe again - in a good way.

He eyes your hands where they are together, and a smirk upturns the corner of his mouth and your heart sighs. The way his mind reels in studying the two of you surges you forward to close the gap between your bodies a bit more. His eyes once again meet yours and that's when you make your move.

He wants it. _You_ want it. You both want each other and nothing and no one can stand in your way. Not here. Not now. Not on your turf.

You move in and replicate the move you'd made before, the one that had never been completed. This time, however, it _is_.

You are exactly as you were before, but your lips finally - at last - meet his. You feel so many things at once, but the most prominent and the strongest emotion you feel is passion. You are passionate about him, his species, and his brain, and he is passionate about _you_. He is a Vulcan, so his passion is something you don't just sense but are actually able to experience.

At first, the kiss you share is soft and still, unmoving as each of you adjusts the pressures of muscles to accommodate the other. Masterfully enough, it's almost as though your mouths were carved from the same bit of marble, two pieces to a masterpiece meant to be placed together.

You feel him kiss you back once he gets the hang of what he's doing - it's clear that he hasn't done this before and, really, neither have you, but that's okay. He's always been your first, so now he's also your last.

The kiss slowly but definitely deepens. You feel the heat between your bodies and know that he has always been what you want. Now that you have him, there is no way in hell or even on earth that you're going to let him slip away.

Your arms hook around his neck to draw yourself up into him - he is nearly a foot taller than you and you love that. It takes some fumbling and unsure moves before he finally slides his hands around your back until they are cradling your torso within their solidity to keep the two of you melded together.

A few minutes - or was it hours? - of deep, deliberate kissing is ended when both of you mutually pull away and engage in a tight embrace. There are no gaps between your bodies now, and you bury your face into the shoulder of his uniform, inhaling his essence and daydreaming of days to come.

Spock holds you tightly - _possessively_ \- as if he has never embraced someone at all, let alone in this manner. Still, it is a beautiful thing.

As he sets you back down onto the carpet and takes your hand, this time definitively, and begins to lead you towards your own bedroom, he smiles a real, genuine smile at you and you're glad that you decided to be impulsive for once.


	3. Him

You wake up in the morning and feel a sudden urge to leave, especially given that you feel so very naked beneath the sheet barely covering your lower torso and almost none of your legs. A sudden sort of embarrassment leaves your Vulcan half scolding you for being here, being like this, even though you seem to have forgotten the 'why'. As you quickly sit up and bump your head against the sill of the window behind the bed, a soft sigh from beside you sharpens your reality.

Elyse is beside you, a mess of ginger hair splayed across her pillow and one of her eyes. She has one arm lifted and crooked over her head, and with one leg straight and the other at an angle, her legs form a pennant beneath the sheet. The blue material stops just below her bellybutton, the crease of her creamy skin leading up to where her ample breasts lay exposed. Her other arm had been tightly placed at her side until you shifted, and now she's rolling over, keeping her face turned towards you. She is beautiful.

The sunrise peeking through the less than adequate shades in her chamber prove to allow just enough through to create a beam. You move again, this time at the beck and call of your human half, the half whose heart is melting at the sight of the goddess beside you and of the gleam she casts, shadowing the rest of the world as it cannot compare to her loveliness. On your side now, you prop your head up and stare at her while she sleeps, noting that her eyelids are twitching. You hope she's dreaming of you.

While you gently caress the blonde hairs adorning her forearm where she'd pulled it up to be near her face, you revel in the sun lighting up the follicles and making you love her all the more. It is then that you remember _everything_.

The previous night had been full of the two of you, all firsts and lasts and everything in between. You had touched every inch of her, your fingers familiarizing themselves with the feel of her bare flesh. By now, you have perfectly memorized the span of her body and all of its adornments - each dip and contour of her skin, each scar, each mole, and even every last freckle. Of course, such freckles were sparing on her face as opposed to her shoulders, arms, and legs, but the small dusting of them was enough to make her eyes pop.

Gently you push the curls from her eyes as she begins to stir. When her eyelids flutter open and her gaze meets yours, silence falls between you.

Your heart skips the moment a smile crosses her lips, stretching back to reveal her perfect, pearly whites. You smirk in return, thankful that a blushing Vulcan is a secret to all as green cheeks are not a part of your make-up.

Neither of you says a word. There is nothing to be said anyway. What would you say if you needed to? Would you tell her that you never knew before her that intercourse could leave you so breathless? Would you remind her of just how lusty you make him feel? Would you tell her that you never want to spend another night without her? Would you tell her you _love_ her?

The last thought causes a hitch to form in the back of your throat. You clear it, but her eyes convey a concern. Perhaps she can sense that you have so many things whirring through your already addled mind. Perhaps she wants to hear them. Regardless, you shake your head, your silent way of telling her that you're going to be just fine.

As long as your future contains every night spent with her, everything will be _more_ than fine.


	4. Her

"Professional" is the word of the day. In fact, it's the word of _every_ day. Where you and your relationship are concerned, there isn't one in the harsh light of day. As far as your superior officers are concerned, you and Spock are merely fellow Commanders and colleagues. The truth is far more heated than that.

System analyses can only go so far before the two of you have to make eye contact, have to converse. All the while, you think about how he made you feel the previous night. You reimagine his hands all over you. You recall the fire in your loins and the surge of your heart. You resign to your feelings about him, solidified even more in public in spite of the secrecy of it all.

Your interior is aflame, but your exterior is as stoic as ever. You love him. You know that. It's all you can do to refrain from holding his hand in front of all of those around you. You fear that your heart will bleed out all of your affections for this man, but, for now, you remain quiet.

You call him "Commander" in public while silently thinking "my love" to yourself. He is absolutely at his most beautiful when he is in his element as he is at present. He marches around the simulator as though he and it are twins, and you smirk to yourself, proud that your man is as brilliant as he is handsome.

Your commanding officers are so proud of him, going along with everything they say, but you know that silently they are chiding themselves for not being as wise and locked in as the Vulcan who is intellectually showing all of them up.

He smiles at you prior to nodding politely in the direction of his superiors and kindly excusing himself from their immediate presence to move closer to you. He is now standing near you, half-pretending to glance over the files in your hand. Steadily, you hand them to him and comment that he would find your work sufficient.

"Believe me, Commander," he said softly, a volume that he knows only you can hear, "I am quite certain that your work is _more_ than sufficient in _all_ respects."

Your skin is tingling and your heart sinks at his words, his true meaning well-understood. He drops his arm down to his side, the part of him that is nearest you. The pair of you are centimeters apart and you feel his fingers lightly and discretely caress yours. Your body is screaming out, crying for him to take you in front of everyone and show them publicly what he does with you in private, but you squeeze his fingers as if to tell him all on your own that you know what he feels and that he must listen to how _you_ feel.

When he parts from your side and swiftly hands your files back to you, it takes every last ounce of personal strength in your entire existence to refrain from shouting that you love him and losing everything that both of you have worked so very hard for. But you don't. Your throat stalls and for a good reason: you are far more sensible than to do something like that.

You love him, it's true, but you would never risk either of your careers for that. You continue your work and decide to keep your thoughts to yourself, knowing full-well that you will tell him all about your thoughts and maybe even enact for him how you _would've_ shouted his name and that you love him.

Or maybe you'll just shout his name for the hell of it.

Twice.


	5. He

The scent of her skin overwhelms your nostrils as the sweltering heat in your body simmers down to a low boil. Your blood is always hot, but around her, it rises to unspeakable heights that no human could truly understand. Then again, perhaps it's best for the heat in your system that you are not, in fact, a human.

Elyse understands that fact better than anyone. As she is brewing a pot of coffee in the kitchen unit nearby, your eyes float over her nude figure, the curvature of her spine straightening under the weight of your loving stare. She tosses you a look over her shoulder, an expression that says that she knows you are watching her and loving her all at the same time and that she is, in return, enjoying it.

"I love you," you confess as you rise from the bed and begin to put your clothes back on.

Elyse turns around after taking a sip of her coffee and nods. "I love _you_ ," she responds, gliding across the carpet pelts as she makes her way over to you. "Why do mornings like this always have to end?"

You fasten your pants and keep your eyes on her the entire time. "We are fated to have our time cut short," you explain. "Perhaps it is because of the racial difference, or maybe because it is where we are slated to work each day. Whatever the reasons may be, it is unfortunate that it must happen this way every day."

She nods and you accept that she understands. "I don't like having to part ways every morning as if nothing happened the previous night."

You place a knuckle beneath her chin and tilt it upward so that she is looking up at you once more. "I do not enjoy it either, but until Starfleet deems it possible for two commanding officers to be together as we are without reprimands or declassification, we must remain secretive." You pause, knowing that she will need to hear more and that you will need to say it out loud. "The important factor is that something _did_ happen on the nights following the morning departures, and some nights harbor _several_ somethings. As long as you and I are in-the-know regarding what we do behind closed doors, that is all that matters, my love."

You can feel her soul purr with the love she feels in hearing you nickname her as such, and you know that you mean it. She smiles before she leans up and coils her arms around your neck to bring your tall body down into a passionate kiss.

You are quick to pull her body into yours, her bare breasts pressing against your shirtless chest and the taste of her mouth conveying the spicyness of morning breath you cannot escape. She is everything to you and her aura is all that you need. The way her tongue slides into your mouth and the feel of her lips cascading across yours in a knowing way is enough to make erect what once had been flaccid since the night of lovemaking left your body in a spent slump.

You are awake and you are alive, and your mouth is meshed with the love you feel for the goddess within your grasp. You pull back from her mouth slowly and decidedly, knowing that a push-up in your trousers would be a red flag for the rest of your day, if not for the rest of your career, and you both know that that cannot happen. The way you kiss her is enough to let her know that both of your careers are on the line, but she understands, and you fall in love with her all over again.

She pulls back from your body entirely and moves into the bathroom as if your presence was enough to make her jump your bones all over again.

If it wasn't for the fact that you were being summoned to the council chambers at that moment, you would have shed your clothes and joined her in the shower.

The council is deciding that day on placements for recruits post-graduation, and you know that means that you will somehow have to wiggle her name onto the list of the same starship they want you to be on.

You can't be without her, so you will find precedent to make that a reality in the most legal way possible.

As you exit her chamber, you can feel the hard-on that had sprung up now going limp once more. All you can think of is helping yourself to her body when night falls and putting that lusty body part to good use in making her feel pleasured.

That's all that matters.


	6. She

Your thoughts are far too spread out. You are supposed to be assisting the council in the placement of the current cadets into their first vessel assignments, but having to sit beside Commander Spock is not helping.

Lately, the two of you have been wound together beneath the sheets of your bed, limbs entwined and breaths as one. This has been a nightly tradition and has become far more than a habit. Having him like that has become a necessity.

Sitting here at the council table with your pen aimed down at the paper and pressed into it so that the male-dominated presences surrounding you are unable to see the tremors of excitement shaking your digits from placidity is _not_ where you want to be, but, alas, it is where you are stationed for the moment, so you accept that...for now, anyway.

"I believe Cadet Uhura shows great promise," you say in conjunction with what the Rear Admiral has just commented. "Her skill in xenolinguistics is unmatched by any other student. While we could use her talents on the _Enterprise_ once she is completed, I do think that her skill should be used elsewhere to begin with to level the playing field."

"And where do you suggest we place her, Commander?" he questions, and all eyes are on you.

You clear your throat and lay your pen beside your paper. "Perhaps the _Farragut_ could use someone of her communication pedigree. I would hate for the _Enterprise_ to steal away _all_ of the best that Starfleet has to offer. Every vessel should be treated with equal dignity and fairness."

The Admiral is pleased, taking note of that onto his clipboard. With that, the final cadet is placed and you can breathe easily. Of course, the _Enterprise_ is not going to be finished for at least another year, so hearing the sass from the aspiring xenolinguist is forthcoming and not at all something that you are concerned with.

The pace of the meeting changes and you sigh with relief when the topic shifts from this to something you are no longer paying attention to.

When the session breaks apart and all officers depart from the conference room, you rise from your chair, gather your things, and straighten your spine before strolling out the door as proudly as you can without bordering on arrogance.

You can feel Spock's presence behind you, his aura like that of a volcano and your insides begin to swelter with anticipation.

"A just placement for Cadet Uhura, Commander," he compliments, and you know he is sincere.

You grin as he falls into stride with you. "You didn't think that I was too harsh to place her on an older vessel?"

"The _Farragut_ is older, yes, but perhaps 'seasoned' is the better term. The cadet will learn all that the more settled vessels have to offer, though the technology of the new Constitution-class ships will be unmatched among the rest of the fleet. She will still know all that she must with the help of the seasoned vessel. The council agreed and her placement is set. You may breathe now, Commander."

Either he was commenting on the fact that your breath hitched every time he professionally attempted to dissuade your self-disdain, or he was referring to resting easily now that cadet placement had been decided. No matter which way it was, your heart pounded from the suggestiveness of the moment.

"You have never been one for favoritism, so your recommendation to place Cadet Uhura onto the _Farragut_ is not against your nature, but, rather, is in tune with the rest of your career. You are one of the most stable officers in Starfleet and are capable of making sound choices that others will agree with." Now he was just trying to butter you up, and you nodded pertly at his words.

This clearly did not set well with him as he pulled you aside into a shadowed portion of the corridor where no one else was watching. "Elyse..." The way your name rolls off of his tongue sends your head into a flat-spin, your eyes casting up to gaze into his brown hues, wide eyes locked on you. "They trust your judgment, so you should follow their lead. You are capable. That is why I did not step in to do any sort of refuting - your words and decisions were presented articulately and in a logical manner."

"Spock, I know that - "

"I am _proud_ of you," he cooed, stepping closer to you so that each of you could feel the air of the other. "You remind me every day why I admire you professionally and adore you personally."

The heat in your cheeks rises to unspeakable levels and you smile faintly up at him. "You're proud of me..."

"It is so much _more_ than pride that I feel," he whispers, raising a hand to caress your cheek with the most subtlety he could muster. A pause fills the space between you as you drink each other in. "I _love_ you."

Your eyes scan his face, expression stoic as you realize the weight of what he has just confessed. Tears well up in your lower eyelids as you cup the side of his face with your hand and bring his face down to yours for a still, stolen kiss. You had longed to hear him say those words, but out here in the shadows of a hall less traveled where any council member or Admiral could stroll past and catch you and your lover engaged in an act of physical insubordination, it was all you could do not to jump into his arms and make the sweetest of love to him right there.

You refrain, settling for a kiss that is all-too-shortlived. You pull away and you feel that he is trembling.

"I love _you_ , Spock," you return, and his demeanor relaxes within your grasp. A quick embrace and a tidying up of your appearances leave the two of you to go your separate ways for now.

That night, you would love him like you wanted to in the corridor, but this time, it would be relentless and subordinate to one another.

He _loves_ you.


	7. His

Cadet Uhura is, understandably, angry with her placement onto the _Farragut_ , and as a red alert has just been issued, all able-bodied cadets are moved rather quickly from apprenticeship to fieldwork, and placement is of-the-essence.

As you rush around the docking bays to make sure that the assigned cadets report to the maiden _Enterprise_ , she is trailing behind you, whining and listing all of the reasons why she should be placed on the bright and new vessel and not one of the seasoned ones. Whether it is out of the alleged goodness in your heart or that you are just annoyed by her persistance, you acquiesce to her demands and replace her assignment to the _Enterprise_.

You board the new vessel after having given the board to one of the security officers at the main loading entrance. Your presence is suddenly warmed by the swift appearance of Elyse, the embodiment of everything you hold most dear. She is beside you, in stride with you as both of you are on your way to the bridge. Together.

You allow her to enter the lift first, and then you follow, signaling the new button to whisk you away to the bridge. As the lift doors close, she shifts closer to you and reaches out a hand. Her fingers find yours and for a moment, there is some affectionate strokes between the hands of lovers. You yearn for her, for time with her, and for more affection like this.

If it wasn't for stolen moments, neither of you would have anything. If it wasn't for each other, both of you would be the loneliest creatures in the galaxy. Instead, you are the luckiest.

Your fingers latch onto hers for a moment and your gaze meets hers. She gives you a soft, loving smile, and you return the expression before the ding of the lift brings you both back down to the ground.

You retract from her, leaving a large space where love had linked you together. While the emotional and spiritual connection lingers and remains, your physical presences must sever to prevent knowledge of your goings-on from ruining either or both careers.

The doors whisk open, and you are once again Commanders Spock and Walters. You have a job to do, so you do it, regardless of the intermittent glances you give each other as if to claim the other for the cold nights to come.

Danger swells and imperative directives rule the agenda as you make certain that all science and medical bay communications are open. Of course, this requires a joint effort between Elyse and yourself, but both of you are quite good at hiding the animalistic passions you share between sheets and in the shadows, so you put such talents to good use in that moment.

What else could you do, right?


	8. Hers

Your eyes keep flashing in Spock's direction, and, each time, his eyes are met with yours. Each time there is a spark of electricity within you, and each time, you are reminded of how dangerously close the two of you are here. Of course, there was always a threat of relationship exposure back at the academy, but here, you had to be professional. Here, you had to keep your love on lockdown because, here, both of your careers could both be taken away from you before you could even oppose it.

The engineer at the helm is attempting to "punch it" as Captain Pike just instructed, but to no avail. The Enterprise sounds like the engines are trying to respond, but for some reason, nothing is happening. Outside in the rest of the docking bay, you can see the disappearances of other vessels into warp.

"Lieutenant," Captain Pike begins, "where is Helmsman McKenna?"

"He has lungworm, sir," the lieutenant responds. "I'm Hikaru Sulu."

"And you _are_ a pilot?"

Sulu chuckles to himself. "Uh, very much so, sir. I'm, uh, not sure what's wrong..."

"Is the parking break on?"

Sulu, again, chuckles. "Uh, no. I'll figure it out. I'm just, uh..."

And that's when the unthinkable happens. Later on, you couldn't have explained just how or why what happened next came to be, but the fact is that it happened. And it happens now.

"Have you disengaged the external inertial dampener?" you question, but you realize your tones are in unison with another's. Glancing in Spock's direction, you see that it was _he_ whose words were linked with yours. You did it. You spoke in unison. It was an irreversible occurrence, one that left the rest of the bridge staring at the pair of you temporarily, though enough to leave impressionable scars.

Sulu did not look back in either your direction or Spock's, doing as instructed.

"Ready for warp, sir," he throws over his shoulder towards the captain.

"Let's punch it," Captain Pike repeats. Sulu does just that, and the Enterprise warps into space, leaving you with the ability to breathe once again.

You want so badly to be near Spock, to tell him what happened and to apologize for the incident. You were thankful that the rest of the bridge, including the captain, appeared to be oblivious to the event which is leaving you weak in the knees and your heart pounding.

Instead, you move over towards the communications sector, observing and gently correcting the parameters set by the cadets who had been forced into full graduate status well-before they were actually ready.

You think that you hear Captain Pike instruct Chekov to do something broadcast-related, but you can't be sure. After all, you are still completely overwhelmed by everything, and you are definitely _not_ keeping your cool. _Dammit, Walter. Keep it together_.

"Commander Walter," Pike summons, and your back immediately stands erect.

"Yes, Captain?" you answer, swiftly moving over to the chair where he stands to meet you.

"Commander Spock, you should probably be in on this, too."

"Of course, Captain," Spock states, crossing the bridge to where you and Pike are both standing and waiting for him.

With Spock's presence closer now than he has been in a little while, you are suddenly aware of your exposed skin from mid-thigh to just below your knees. Your cheeks redden with embarrassment, especially since these new uniforms are not exactly to your liking, despite how comfortable they might be. You are also glad that you had decided to wear the long-sleeved black spandex shirt underneath the dress, covering any exposed skin that would've spanned from the crests of your shoulders to the very tips of your fingernails. _At least I'm wearing my own boots_.

"We need to prepare for ground assault. Will the medical bay be ready to receive any wounded?"

"The equipment installed within the medical bay will undoubtedly be ready to receive any and all injuries which may or may not incur inside of this tactic," Spock explains. "I have no doubt that we could hold out for as long as necessary. The staff monitoring the medical bay have incredible experiences accumulated between all of them, a fact which I am proud of. They seem to be handling the christening of the Enterprise with as much of the pomp and circumstance you referenced earlier as being relinquished with a swift departure."

"Excellent," Pike rewards, turning to you now. "Ground assault. Are these cadets capable of or even ready for ground tactics?"

You nod, fully aware of Spock's gaze as it locks onto yours. You know he is eager to hear you speak in the manner of your training - he loved to hear you talk about your focus. "I have great faith that the cadets I have trained are more than well-equipped for the tasks at-hand. They still have a lot to learn, but I have every confidence that they will learn quickly what must be known to make this a victory."

The corner of Spock's mouth upturns in the middle of your words, the closest you will get to a public smile, though this is more like a smirk, and it makes your thighs quake.

"Good to know," Pike states. He seems to want to build on his questions, but he doesn't get the chance. James Tiberius Kirk bursts onto the bridge, and you immediately flash back to the night you accompanied Pike to the bar on a recruitment bender.

**::::**

_"You know, I couldn't believe it when the bartender told us who you are," Pike admits, seated across the small table from Kirk and beside you._

_"Who_ am _I, Captain Pike?" Kirk questions._

_"Your father's son."_

_Kirk gestures for the barkeep. "Can I get another one?" The tissues clogging up his nostrils become too full, so you reach into your satchel and remove two fresh ones for him._

_"For my dissertation, I was assigned the USS Kelvin. Something I admired about your dad, he didn't believe in no-win scenarios."_

_"Sure learned his lesson," Kirk comments._

_"Well, it depends on how you define winning," you interject. "_ You're _here, aren't you?"_

_The bartender brings him another drink. "Thanks."_

_"You know, that instinct to leap without looking, that was_ his _nature, too," Pike continues, "and in my opinion, it's something Starfleet has lost."_

_Kirk chuckles, his throat clogged with clotting blood. "Why are you talkin' to me, man?"_

_Pike looks to you to answer that question, and you are ready for it. "I looked up your file while you were drooling on the floor," you tell him, catching his attention. "Your aptitude tests are off the charts, so what is it? Do you_ like _being the only genius-level repeat offender in the midwest?"_

_"Maybe I_ love _it."_

_"You could settle for a less than ordinary life...or do you feel like you were meant for something better, something special?" You pause, catching his gaze. "Enlist in Starfleet."_

_"Enlist?" He snickers. "You guys must be_ way _down on your recruiting quota for the month."_

_Pike decides to take over. "If you're half the man your father was, Jim, Starfleet could use you. You could be an officer in four years. You could have your own ship in eight. You understand what the Federation is, don't you? It's important. It's a peacekeeping and humanitarian armada."_

_"We done?"_

_Pike relinquishes. "We're done." He rises, and you follow suit, shaking your head slightly. "Riverside Shipyard. The shuttle for new recruits leaves tomorrow, zero-eight-hundred_. _" He starts to leave, and so do you. You get only two steps away when you stop dead in your tracks._

_Something in your brain screams at you to go back, to get one more shot in while you can because it would be the deciding factor in Kirk's enlistment or passover. You cannot allow this one to get away, knowing what an asset he would be to all of Starfleet if he enlisted. You need him to be there for some unseen reason, and you cannot fight it._

_"Sir," you mutter, catching Pike's attention, "wait..." Pike is surprised and watches your back as you turn on your heels and return to the table._

_"You know," you begin, startling him a bit as his eyes turn up to meet yours, "your father was Captain of a starship for twelve minutes. He saved eight hundred lives, including your mother's...and yours." There is no desperation about you. There is only a final attempt. You rest the heels of your palms on the table to level yourself with his eyes. "I_ dare _you to do_ better _."_

_Straightening, you turn and exit the bar with a well-impressed Pike having left behind an impressioned-upon Kirk._

_"Damn," he comments. "Did that feel good?"_

_"I just think he'd be the one who got away, and Starfleet cannot afford anymore of those."_

_"I agree. I'm proud of you, Walter."_

_"Thank you, sir."_

**::::**

Now, you are imagining that broken and dejected version of Kirk, bloodied and self-depricating, rising up to meet the strong man entering the bridge with determination and self-confidence, both traits you knew that day in the bar were somewhere inside of him. Selfishly, you want to take a bit of the credit for his transformation, though, honestly, you _should_.

"Captain Pike, we have to stop the ship!" Kirk calls out.

Pike's brow furrows. "Kirk," he says, "how the hell did you get on board the Enterprise?"

"Captain," McCoy interjects, "this man's under the influence of a severe reaction of a Melvaran flea vaccine, completely delusional. I take full responsibility."

Kirk ignores him. "Vulcan is _not_ experiencing a natural disaster," he corrects in reference to Chekov's broadcast. "It's being _attacked_ by Romulans."

"Romulans?" Pike repeats. "Cadet Kirk, I think you've had enough attention for one day. McCoy, take him back to medical. We'll have words later."

"Aye, Captain," McCoy affirms.

"Look, sir, that same anomaly - "

"Mister Kirk is not cleared to be aboard this vessel," Spock interjects.

"Look, I get it. You're a great orator. I'd love to do it again with you, too."

"I can remove the Cadet - "

"Try it!" Kirk blasts, catching Spock only slightly off-guard. "This Cadet is trying to _save_ the bridge."

"By recommending a full-stop mid-warp during a rescue mission?"

"It's _not_ a rescue mission - listen, it's an _attack_."

Spock is resolute now. "Based on what _facts_?"

Kirk stops and takes a deep breath to calm himself prior to continuing. Now, he makes eye contact with you for a brief second before switching his singular attention to Spock, who stands ready and waiting to hear what he has to say. "That same anomaly, a 'lightning storm in space' that we saw today, also occurred on the day of my birth before a Romulan ship attacked the USS Kelvin." Spock was formidably and visibily impressed. Kirk's gaze shifted to Pike. "You know that, sir. I read your dissertation." Then, his eyes finally rested on yours, pleading behind the veil of ice blue in his hues. "That ship, which had formidable and advanced weaponry was never seen or heard from again. The Kelvin attack took place on the edge of Klingon space and, at twenty-three-hundred hours last night, there was an attack. Forty-seven Klingon warbirds destroyed by a Romulan, sir. It was reported that the Romulans were in one ship, one _massive_ ship."

"And you know of this Klingon attack how?" Pike questioned.

Kirk's gaze moved to Uhura, who was standing by.

"Sir," she said, stepping forward, "I intercepted and translated the message myself. Kirk's report is accurate. I even ran the message by Commander Walter."

All gazes warmed your aura with their undivided attention, all waiting to hear your words of affirmation.

"It's true," you affirm, mostly in Pike's direction. "Cadet Uhura brought the message to my quarters late last night. She asked for affirmation regarding her translation, just to make certain that what she'd found was accurately represented in her notes. I assured her that they were, especially given that she is unmatched in xenolinguistics, so I would trust her assessment."

"We're warping into a trap, sir," Kirk continued. "The Romulans are waiting for us, I promise you that."

Silence surrounding the small cluster near the Captain's chair. Spock was, of course, the one to break it.

"The Cadet's logic is sound," Spock assures the Captain.

You turn on your heels and move over to the communications sector. "Scan Vulcan space," you instruct. "Check for any transmissions in Romulan."

"Ma'am, I'm not sure I can distinguish the Romulan language from Vulcan," the lieutenant post claims to you.

"What about you?" Pike says to Uhura. "Do you speak Romulan, Cadet?"

"Uhura," she states with a nod. "All three dialects, sir."

"Uhura, relieve the lieutenant."

"Yes, sir."

"Walter," Pike says to you, "hail the USS Truman."

You attempt to, but the system reverts to a blank sound with lots of static. "All of the other ships are out of warp, sir," you tell him, turning back to face him, "and have arrived at Vulcan, but we seem to have lost all contact."

"Sir," Uhura states, "I pick up no Romulan transmission...or transmission of any kind in the area."

"It's because they're being attacked," Kirk explains, and suddenly his story bears a shit-ton more in weight.

Pike is resolute and resumes his seat in the chair. "Shields up," he commands. "Red alert."

Sulu and Chekov change the protocols within their systems and you take a seat in tactical communications to do what you knew you were best at. Spock is seated in the next com station, the one beside you. Both of you keep your hands on the screens in front of you, palms flat and ready. Your eyes flash to Spock's and he nods at you as if that motion could say all that needs to be said without the use of verbal language. You return a head-nod, eyes conveying nerves and fear, and he picks up on it. His hand gingerly shifts positions, and soon, his pinkie finger is wrapped with yours. It is small, but is a sweet gesture, one that you definitely needed at that moment. _If only our lips, not our pinkies, could be linked together. Then I could finally have some peace_.

"Arrival in Vulcan in five seconds," Sulu begins to countdown, "four...three...two..."

Right on cue, the Enterprise exits warp and enters what they could of the orbit around Vulcan. You knew that you all had been too late. The pieces of the destroyed vessels floated into sight, some of them immediately striking the Enterprise's pristine hull.

"Emergency evasive," Pike orders.

"Running, sir," you say, hands making quick work to do as you knew best. Spock, too, does as he knows is best, all flurries of fingers across the inaugural use of the systems the Enterprise had been given. Luckily, things were state of the art. Unfortunately, you had been better-acquainted with low-level technologies. Self-sustaining systems were new to you, but it was nice to have a system actually respond to your commands instead of fight back and force you to do everything you wish you didn't have to.

"Damage report."

"Deflector shields are holding," you respond immediately.

"All stations. Helm, full reverse. Come about starboard ninety degrees. Drop us underneath...and..."

The moment that the ship began to rise up from underneath the current obstacle of debris, the Romulan ship in-question came into sight, and all were stunned.

"What the hell _is_ that?" you mutter, eyes growing wide at the large tentacles of the ship stretching out into space as if it wished to swallow the Enterprise. Dammit, it probably _could have_.

A few moments of stunned silence were shared by all on the bridge. Spock, again, was the one to break the silence. "Captain, they're locking torpedoes," he informed.

"Avert auxilliary power from port nacelles to forward shields."

You do as you're told, and quickly. You wait as the torpedoes slam against the hull of the Enterprise, bare shockwaves leaving minor tremors coursing throughout the vessel.

"Sulu, status report."

"Shields at thirty-two percent," Sulu tells him. "Their weapons are powerful, sir. We can't take another hit like that."

"Walter, get me Starfleet Command."

"Captain," Spock interjects, "the Romulan ship has lowered some kind of high energy pulse device into the Vulcan atmosphere. Its signal appears to be blocking our communications and transporter abilities."

"All power to forward shields. Prepare to fire all weapons."

Suddenly, your com center blares with a red warning you know all-too-well, no matter what class the vessel is in, and you have no choice but to immediately report it. "Captain, we're being hailed," you inform, waiting for further instructions.

"Onscreen," Pike requests, and you oblige, pressing a few buttons to allow the hailed conversation to come onto the main screen.

"Hello," the Romulan male spoke with a wave.

"I'm Captain Christopher Pike. To whom am I speaking?"

"Hi, Christopher. I'm Nero."

"You've declared war against the Federation. Withdraw. I'll agree to arrange a conference with Romulan leadership at a neutral location."

"I do not speak for the Empire. We stand apart...as does your Vulcan crew member. Isn't that right...Spock?"

You feel like your heart drops into your stomach and your whole world spins. The sound of your love's name leaving the lips of a Romulan bloodthirsty for some reason yet unseen has you reeling in all the most nauseating ways. What did he want with Spock? How does he even know his name?

Spock, confused, rises from his chair and slowly takes a few steps forward. "Pardon me," he states politely, "I do not believe that you and I are acquainted."

"No, we're not...not _yet_. Spock, there's something I would like you to see." Nero pauses and then changes his direction of speech to Pike. "Captain Pike, your transporter has been disabled. As you can see by the rest of your armada, you have no choice. You will man a shuttle, come aboard the Narada for negotiations. That is all."

And then Nero was gone. Nothing but silence remained in the dense air of the bridge. Your heart settles, but only slightly. Pike rises from his chair, and you, Kirk, and Spock are quick to the draw.

"He'll _kill_ you," Kirk warns. "You _know_ that."

"Your survival _is_ unlikely," Spock agrees.

"Captain," you interject, hoping your opinion weighs heavily enough to fall on ears that are anything but deaf, "we gain _nothing_ by diplomacy here. Going over to that ship is a mistake."

"I, too, agree," Spock confers, standing by your side. "You should re-think your strategy."

"I understand that," Pike confesses, sighing just after finishing his sentence. "I need officers who have been trained in advanced hand-to-hand combat."

Sulu raises his hand. "I have training, sir," he says.

Pike responds with "Come with me. Kirk, you, too. You're not supposed to be here anyway." He starts to leave the bridge. You, Spock, Kirk, and Sulu follow just behind him, your stride swift and deliberate. "Chekov, you have the conn."

You think that you hear Chekov respond, but you can never be too sure. You don't care. Right now, your head is only in one place, and that's with finding out how in the blue fuck Nero has Spock's name, and what his agenda is exactly.

Once you are down in Engineering, Pike explains his plan, and you are once again attentive. _At least for now..._

"Without transporters, we can't beam off the ship, we can't assist Vulcan, we can't do our job. Mister Kirk, Mister Sulu, Engineer Olson, you will space-jump from the shuttle. You will land on that machine they lowered into the atmosphere that's scrambling our gear. You'll get inside, you'll disable it, then you'll beam back to the ship. Mister Spock, I'm leaving you in command of the Enterprise." Your pride swells within your unease. "Once we have transport capabilities, communications back up, you'll contact Starfleet, report what the hell's going on here. And, if all else fails, fall back, rendezvous with the fleet in the Laurentian system." He pauses for a moment, turning his sights to Kirk. "Kirk, I'm promoting you to First Officer."

Spock grows defensive. His aura tells you so. "Captain, please, I apologize," he says. "Commander Walter is a far more qualified and experienced individual, one who is more capable of handling this situation. The complexities of human pranks escape me."

Pike smirks. "It's not a prank, Spock, and I'm _not_ the Captain - _you_ are. Let's go."

"Sir, after we knock out that drill, what happens to you?" Kirk questions as Pike enters the lift to the shuttle.

"Oh, I guess you'll have to come and get me." He turns his sights to Spock. "Careful with the ship, Spock. She's brand new." The doors to the lift whiz shut after Kirk, Sulu, and Olson enter behind him.

Your heart is racing, your hands are shaking. Spock notes that something is wrong with you and pulls you aside near a few fuel tubes unmanned by engineering personnel.

"You are trembling," he notes, voice barely above a whisper. He places a hand across your forehead, eyes growing wide and brow settling into worry. "Your skin is clammy. What is happening? What can I do to help?"

You rest your hands on his forearms like an anchoring maneuver, steadying yourself against him and looking up into his eyes. "Spock, how does Nero know who you are?" you ask. "How does he know you, though he says you haven't met yet? What does he _want_ with you?"

"Elyse," he exhales, pulling you in with his hands cupping your face and your neck. You are close enough for him to stoop slightly and push his forehead against yours. You calm down slightly with the way his tongue caresses over the syllables of your name. His voice alone is enough to soothe, but when it's your name breathed against your lips, something changes inside of you. It's as if the way he says your name reignites your love in a way to keep your feet on the ground. "Elyse, we will uncover the truth. I am in no immediate danger."

"Spock, it's - "

" _Elyse_ ," he says, and there is a strength behind his voice, "there is nothing we cannot handle together. I need for you to calm yourself and stabilize your emotions until the basis of motives can be unlocked. Are you able to stabilize yourself?"

Your eyes look into his, pleading for more contact. "Stabilize me, Spock," you plead.

Spock smirks, leaning in and connecting his lips with yours. This move is bold for him, and you can feel the passion behind the muscles of his lips. Your body, while electrified from the contact, calms into submission, the numbness replaced by the tingles of pleasure. His arms briefly wrap around your back as he tenderly deepens the kiss, but he does for only a moment, and then both of you break away from the other, standing at arms' length so that you can get back to the moment.

"Come," he says, "we have a bridge to command."

Spock holds your hand the entire time the lift whizzes you both back into the harsh light of reality and towards your obligations - not that you mind. His touch is soothing to you, and you suspect that he is using his Vulcan power to convey a sense of stability and transfer such equilibrium to your on-edge nerves. Of course, it is working, so you take everything he is offering.

Once back on the bridge, the entire crew there looks to the both of you. His hand is no longer entwined with yours, but you are somehow worlds better than you had been down in Engineering.

You resume your place at the communications conn, and Spock assumes the Captain's chair, pressing a button to relay his words down to Medical.

"Doctor Puri," he says with a steady voice, "report."

"It's McCoy," Bones responds. "Puri was on deck six. He's dead."

Spock pauses briefly to catch his bearing. "Then you have just inherited his responsibility as Chief Medical Officer."

"Yeah, tell me something I _don't_ know."

"Away team is entering the atmosphere, Captain," you say, watching your screen as it locks onto Olson's, Kirk's, and Sulu's positions and you bring their vitals onto your screen. "Twenty thousand meters." You press a few more buttons and eye each of their distances from the platform. "Approaching the platform at fifty-eight hundred meters."

"Kirk to Enterprise," Kirk's voice says over the comm. "Distance to target, five thousand meters."

Back on the bridge, your eyes once again feel in their element. _Whatever Spock did worked, but don't tell him that, or he will use that to his advantage somehow later on_. "Forty-six hundred meters from the platform."

The red, yellow, and blue lights continue to keep you in check with where the away-team is located and the distance between them and the platform. "Two thousand meters." You watch as the blue and yellow lights descend at a slower pace, so you deduce that they have pulled their chutes, but the red light is still falling at the same pace as before. Twenty seconds later, you see the red light has struck the target, but then disappears and the vitals flatline. "Olson is _gone_ , sir."

"How far are the other two from landing?" Spock questions.

"Kirk has landed," you announce, setting him at ease a bit. "And now Sulu is there as well."

"Now, we wait," Chekov comments and you nod in Spock's direction. A few painstaking minutes later, you see the clear signals given by the communications having been blocked. Now, they are clear.

"The jamming signal is gone," you say. "Transport abilities are reestablished."

"Transporter control is reengaged, sir," Chekov states.

"Chekov," Spock speaks up, "run gravitational sensors, and I want to know what they are doing on the planet."

"Aye, Commander - ack. _Captain_. Sorry. Captain."

As Chekov does his thing, Kirk comes back over the comm. "Kirk to Enterprise," he says, "they just launched something at the planet, through the hole they just drilled."

You are stunned, eyes meeting Spock's with complete and utter dismay.

"Do you copy, Enterprise?" Kirk asks.

"Yes, we copy," you respond, letting him know that his traffic has been heard.

"Captain," Chekov interjects between various reports being called across the bridge, "gravitational sensors are off the scale. If my calculations are correct, they're creating a singularity...that will consume the planet."

The expression of falling came across Spock's usually taciturn face, and your heart broke for him. "They're creating a black hole at the center of Vulcan?" he asks for clarification.

"Yes, sir."

"How long does the planet have?"

Chekov shrugs, a hopeless expression crossing his own face. "Minutes, sir. Minutes."

Spock pauses, but you see resolution come to his features, and that fills you with fright. He rises from the chair, and you, too, stand up. His eyes meet yours, and you can tell he is about to give you orders, and you're not sure you're ready. "Commander, alert Vulcan Command Center to signal a planetwide evacuation on all channels, all frequencies. Maintain standard orbit."

"Spock," you say, neglecting to use his rank before his name, though you were throwing all protocol aside for him, "where are you going?"

"To evacuate the Vulcan High Council," he explains, moving over to the lift and entering it. You hold the doors, eyes pleading with him to either stay or ask you to accompany him. "They are tasked with protecting our cultural history, and my parents will be among them."

"Can't you beam them out?"

Spock shakes his head. "It is impossible. They will be in the Katric Ark. I must get them myself." You can see the weight of the necessary task veiling behind his eyes and you fear for him. He extends an arm to close the doors and whisk himself away, but before he does, his hand finds yours and he squeezes it as if he needs your support now more than ever. "You have the conn."

"Aye," you mutter, giving his hand a squeeze in return to let him know that you could handle that. You step back from the doors, your gaze locked on his and unwavering as the doors closed and he was gone.

"Aye-aye-aye," Chekov said with a shake of his head.

"Kirk to Enterprise," Kirk says, and you snap back into reality. "Beam us outta here!"

A few moments of silence are suddenly undercut by another transmission from Kirk.

"Kirk to Enterprise! We're falling without a chute! Beam us up!"

"I'm trying," you hear the female transporter chief exclaim. "I can't lock on your signal - you're moving too fast."

"I can do zat!" Chekov bursts out, rushing from the bridge. "I can do zat! Commander?"

"Go!" you shout, and he leaves without saying another word. Your eyes scan Chekov's system. "The black hole's expanding...we won't reach minimum safe distance if we don't leave immediately."

A few more moments of keeping the crew under control are met with knowledge that Spock has beamed down to the planet. You overhear his traffic and upon hearing that he has found his parents within the Katric Ark, you tell one of the female command officers that she has the conn until she returns.

With a turn onto your heels, you enter the lift and whiz yourself down towards the transporter pad, your heart pounding and your skin aflame with worry. _Breathe. It's Spock - he will be fine. He will return to you. Breathe, dammit._

You exit the lift and your feet carry you in a full-fledged sprint towards the pad, your body itching to see him again and know that he is safe. Alarms are blaring as you enter the room behind Chekov and see that he is struggling to lock onto someone's particular position. "I'm losing her," he chants. "I'm losing her, I'm losing her!" The screen flashes. She is gone. "No, I've lost her..."

The yellow glow of transport beams energize the forms onto the pad. The first ones you see are the unfamiliar faces of Vulcan elders, then Spock's father Sarek, and, finally, your love. But your love is broken and he is devastated. As he energizes, you see that his arm is outstretched, helplessly reaching for a figure who does not energize, and it is then that you realize Spock's mother had been consumed by the planet. She was gone, and Spock's face reflected the deepest survivor guilt.

Your entire being broke for him, and the entirety of the room was silent with the realization of what had just happened.


	9. Homme

_Acting-captain's log, stardate twenty-two fifty-eight point four two. We have had no word from Captain Pike. I have, therefore, classified him a hostage of the war criminal known as Nero - Nero, who has destroyed my home planet and most of its six billion inhabitants. While the essence of our culture has been saved in the elders who now reside upon the ship, I estimate that no more than ten thousand have survived. I am now a member of an endangered species._

Your stare is blank, eyes unable and unwilling to shed even an inkling of the real desolation floating inside of you at the moment. _Desolate_. There is no better word for the state of mind you currently find yourself in, and it's all you can do to keep yourself from completely crumbling.

You know that the bridge is hard-at-work to do what is necessary, mostly running the field operations required to keep the systems at an equilibrium, another term you cannot fathom at the moment.

You rise from your chair, the soft 'ding' of the systems causing your temples to pound and your skin to heat. Your Vulcan half has almost entirely succumbed to your human half, though not enough as of yet that it cannot lump your desolation into a blinding fury bubbling at the bottom of your existence.

Your legs carry you to the lift, wishing to be anywhere but enveloped into the maelstrom of feelings. You long for normalcy and for things to go back to how they had been before tragedy struck you to the bone. You are not surprised, then, when Elyse slips into the lift with you just before the doors whiz closed.

Her eyes are locked on your face, unwavering empathy attempting to be conveyed through her gaze. You can feel her warmth, the weight of love shared surrounding you with a comfort you weren't aware you needed. But you do. More importantly, you need _her_.

Her fingers somehow knowingly press a button to stop the movement of the lift and then her hand once again drops to her side. She steps closer - as if that was possible - and your eyes finally meet hers. That is when she speaks.

"I'm sorry," she mutters. Her voice is soft and almost nonexistent, but you have heard her perfectly, and you continue to be unmoving as she takes another step towards you. Your Vulcan half is winning the battle, suppressing the fact that you want nothing more than to kiss her and wrap your arms around her. "I'm sorry." She is breathing heavier, and you know that her heart rate has undoubtedly accelerated. Her hands rise up to cup and caress your face, her eyes blinking back the tears she so desperately wishes to shed. The feeling of her skin against yours is welcoming and comforting, somehow affecting the stability of the emotions you have been building up within, the fortified walls protecting your core from breaking down and feeling all that you wish to, all that you normally feel when you're with her. "I'm so sorry."

She inhales sharply before craning upwards onto the tip of her toes to pull your neck down slightly and meet your lips with hers in a tender transfer of physical support. You return the kiss, eyes blinking quickly as she removes her lips from yours and plants smaller, shorter presses against your jawline and the side of your neck before her arms wrap around your neck and completely enclose you in a loving embrace. You feel the fingers of her left hand gently rubbing the back of your neck, massaging there as if you harbor tension there that she wishes to unlock, but you know that she is merely giving you physical touch as a sign that you can unhinge your feelings around her and let yourself go. You do.

Your arms encircle her body, the familiarity of the feel of her filling you with so many overwhelming emotions, and you recognize this as your human half having won the war. She sighs and your heart melts within her grasp, your hands gripping her shoulderblades and fingers pressing into her uniform. Instinctively, you bury your face into the crook of her neck, losing your breath within her essence and the familiar scent of her soothes you more than you would care to admit.

"What do you need?" she asks, pulling back from you and tenderly stroking the outlines of your face. "Tell me."

Your hands give her hips a squeeze and your eyes blink slowly, pulling her hips inward until they collide with yours. "I need for you to never, ever leave me," you plead.

She smiles at you softly, pulling you closer so that she could press her forehead to yours. "I am right here, Spock," she comforts, your skin tingling from the heat of her breath. "I will never leave you." She kisses you again and your throat murmurs out your contentment. "Is there anything else you need from me?"

"I need for everyone to continue performing admirably," you admit, gripping her uniform and pulling her as closely into yourself as possible.

She nods, her fingers and hands stroking your face, your neck, your chest, and then settling on your biceps. "Of course," she says, kissing you once more.

This time, the kiss was slow and deeper than the other two. Your hands release her clothing and move up to hold her neck, keeping her head steady as your mouth and hers danced. Amid the kiss, she reaches up and presses the lift-start button, whizzing the two of you off to the bottom deck where you would then check on Engineering.

As the lift's move slows to a defining halt, the two of you release yourselves from the other's heated grasp, the look of passion all over your faces. You straighten yourself out a bit while she unruffles the edge of her uniform and runs her fingers through her hair. Her curls are always tight and mussed, so her fingers can do little to help, but the flustered appearance she bears is both endearing and sexy. She smirks at her own reddened appearance and you sigh.

Your hand reaches out to caress her face tenderly once more, eyes finding hers. She gives you a surprised and loving look, and you love her all the more for it. "I love you," you confess, the corners of your mouth upturning in a slight grin.

She smiles, her eyes blinking slowly as she nudges her cheek against your hand, hers rising up to meet yours. "And I love you," she returns, "and I am _here_ for you always."

"Excellent," you say, snapping your arm back down to your side as the lift doors whiz open and you leave behind a blushing and impassioned Elyse, the woman who has just turned your grief around and reminded you of the reason you fight out the good fight.

_Her_.


End file.
